


Kitten

by lionheartedghost



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale adopts a cat, Fluff, Flufftober 2019, Gen, Kittens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:07:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21749530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionheartedghost/pseuds/lionheartedghost
Summary: “Oh!” Aziraphale blinked in surprise. “Hello there.”Curious eyes regarded him. Then, almost hesitantly, it squeaked again. Or, rather, it meowed.“Whatever are you doing out here in this awful weather?” Aziraphale brushed his fingers against the ginger fur, scratching behind the kitten’s ear. “Wouldn’t you prefer to be somewhere warmer?”Aziraphale adopts a stray kitten. He names it after his best friend.Originally posted on Tumblr.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43





	Kitten

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Flufftober Prompt #15, ‘Kittens’.

The evening had faded to a dull grey, the route back to his bookshop illuminated by the orange lamppost glow and the bright white glare of car headlights. The rain had just begun, but it was only a pitiful rain, the kind that left a vague haze in the air and gave everything the appearance of dampness without any of the real commitment. Aziraphale had barely felt it against his skin, but for the sake of the tweed jacket he’d grown rather fond of, he’d discreetly miracled himself an umbrella and held it proudly aloft as he headed home.  
  
Aziraphale stopped abruptly. He could see his bookshop at the end of the road, waiting patiently for him on its corner, but that wasn’t what had caught his attention. He turned his head to the left, frowned at the dark alley in front of him, and listened.  
  
There it was again. A squeak, barely audible above the rumble of traffic behind him, but undoubtedly there.  
  
“Hello?” Aziraphale called. “Is someone there?”  
  
Silence. Then, more clearly than before, another squeak.  
  
Aziraphale clicked his fingers. “Let there be light,” he murmured, a proud smile flickering across his face as a warm glow emanated from his fingertips. He stepped cautiously into the alley, the light curling its way along the path. “Hello?”  
  
The noise came again.  
  
Aziraphale turned the light onto a pile of sodden cardboard boxes stacked up against the wall, the topmost of which was closed over. Tucking his umbrella under his arm, Aziraphale walked towards the box, reached out and lifted the lid.  
  
“Oh!” Aziraphale blinked in surprise. “Hello there.”  
  
Curious eyes regarded him. Then, almost hesitantly, it squeaked again. Or, rather, it meowed.  
  
“Whatever are you doing out here in this awful weather?” Aziraphale brushed his fingers against the ginger fur, scratching behind the kitten’s ear. “Wouldn’t you prefer to be somewhere warmer?”  
  
The kitten purred.  
  
“Well,” Aziraphale glanced over his shoulder, “I shouldn’t leave you here. Would you like to come home with me?”  
  
The kitten bumped its head against his hand. Aziraphale beamed.  
  
“Wonderful.” He picked up the kitten in one hand and tucked it inside his coat, holding his lapels together to stave off the drizzle. He waved his other hand to dispel the light and miracle away the umbrella, brushed his thumb under the kitten’s chin, and walked back out of the alley and along the pavement to the safety of his bookshop.  
  
“Do you know,” Aziraphale said, pushing open the front door, “you remind me of my best friend. He’s ginger too.”  
  
The kitten purred against his chest.  
  
“In fact,” Aziraphale turned on the lights and tucked the kitten into the crook of his arm, “I’m going to call you Anthony. Is that alright with you?”  
  
Anthony kneaded his paws against Aziraphale’s sleeve.  
  
“Oh good,” he smiled. “Well then, Anthony, I’m sure you’d like something to eat. I don’t think I have any kitten food here, but I could just…”  
  
Aziraphale set Anthony down in front of the bowl of food that had appeared, rather miraculously, some might say, on the floor beside his desk.  
  
“There we are now,” Aziraphale said, clapping his hands together as Anthony began to eat. The bookshop was silent but for a quiet, contented purring. Aziraphale sat down at his desk and opened a large volume he’d been working through. He turned the pages carefully, tracing his fingers over the historiated initials. It had been an excellent find, one of only three editions printed in Europe some three hundred years ago, and he’d been rather proud of himself for acquiring it. The script had been so beautifully written and the pages so well-preserved-  
  
“Oh!” Aziraphale started as something sharp dug into his leg. He looked down, watching as Anthony buried his claws into the material of Aziraphale’s trousers and climbed onto his lap. “Hello there. Did you enjoy your dinner?”  
  
Anthony turned in a small circle, curled up, and immediately went to sleep.  
  
“I suppose that solves the problem of finding you somewhere to sleep.” Aziraphale stroked the kitten absently, looked back at the book on the desk and lost himself in the pages again.

*

“Angel,” Crowley said the next evening from where he sat at the little oak table, “what is _that_?”

“Hmm?” Aziraphale looked up from his mug of cocoa and followed Crowley’s line of sight. “Ah! This is Anthony. He lives with me now. I’ve always quite liked the idea of a bookshop cat- I remember visiting a delightful little bookshop in Paris where they had one- and I-”

“His name is Anthony,” Crowley repeated, lowering his glasses to scrutinise Aziraphale over the top of them.

“Well, yes,” Aziraphale nodded. “I named him after you. He reminded me of you.”

Crowley frowned at the kitten strutting determinedly towards him. Anthony sat down beside his feet, considered him for a moment, and began to climb Crowley’s leg. Crowley yelped.

“Yes, he does that,” Aziraphale said, smiling apologetically. “It means he likes you.”

“He has a suspiciously violent way of showing affection,” Crowley muttered. “Must be one of ours.”

Anthony purred, head-butting Crowley’s arm as he kneaded his paws on Crowley’s lap.

“He’s leaving fur on my clothes.” Crowley plucked a single ginger hair from his sleeve and held it up, his lips curled in irritation.

“Mm,” Aziraphale took another sip of his cocoa. “He does that too.”

“Tiny hellish creature,” Crowley said to the kitten settling in his lap, in a voice that suggested that was more of a compliment than a curse. He scratched his index finger under the kitten’s chin, and if Aziraphale wasn’t mistaken, a considerably un-demonic smile spread across his face. It disappeared immediately when Crowley met Aziraphale’s eyes, grumbling something about the inconvenience of angelic good deeds, and Aziraphale nodded politely.

No matter how Crowley might say otherwise, Aziraphale’s two favourite beings looked to be as fond of each other as he was of them.

Aziraphale took another sip of cocoa, sat back in his chair, and smiled to himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed it, kudos and comments are always appreciated!


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